


Thirteen Ways of Looking at Wilson

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird - Wallace Stevens, House M.D.
Genre: Crack, Introspection, Pastiche, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-02
Updated: 2008-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wallace Stevens' classic poem ... adapted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteen Ways of Looking at Wilson

**Author's Note:**

> With sincere apologies to the Estate of Wallace Stevens, and many thanks to Bironic and Deelaundry for help on the last line.

**Thirteen Ways of Looking at Wilson**

 

I.  
Among twenty snowy labcoats  
The only moving things  
Are Wilson's eyes.

II.  
I was of three minds  
Like a hospital directory  
In which there are three Wilsons.

III.  
Wilson whirls in the autumn winds.  
He is a small part of the pantomime.

IV.  
House and Wilson  
Are one.  
House and Cuddy and Wilson  
Are one.

V.  
I do not know which to prefer,  
The beauty of prescriptions  
Or the beauty of forgeries,  
Wilson whistling  
Or just after.

VI.  
Icicles filled the long window  
Of House's apartment.  
The shadow of Wilson  
Crossed it, to and fro.  
The mood  
Traced in the shadow  
An indecipherable cause.

VII.  
O doctors of Princeton-Plainsboro,  
Why do you imagine golden cures?  
Do you not see how Wilson  
Glides around the feet  
Of the fellows about you?

VIII.  
I know noble intents  
And lucid, inescapable lies;  
But I know, too,  
That Wilson is involved  
In what I know.

IX.  
When Wilson strode out of sight,  
It marked the edge  
Of one of many circles.

X.  
At the sight of Wilson  
Sitting at a green light,  
Even the sisters of Hadassah  
Would cry out sharply.

XI.  
House rode over New Jersey  
In a red Corvette.  
Once, a fear pierced him,  
In that he mistook  
The shadow of his cane  
For Wilson.

XII.  
The river is moving.  
Wilson must be sailing.

XIII.  
It was evening all afternoon.  
It was snowing  
And it was going to snow.  
Wilson sat  
On the worn leather couch.


End file.
